Dr jekyll, Dr jekyll, and Dr jekyll
by AncientDoom
Summary: What if after IronMan3, Mrs. Potts doesn't have her power removed and can't control it? What happens to her and Stark? How does it affect their every day life? Includes Bruce Banner as he tries to help them through this. I OWN NOTHING!
1. Chapter 1 - Session with Bruce

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Iron Man or Marvel or Hulk or D.C. Comics, etc.

This is a spoiler of all 3 Iron Man movies, plus Hulk, and Avengers.

* * *

Growing up, I had always been the nerd. The girl who was too smart for her own good, never fit in, always pushed aside. People didn't much like me as a kid, and one of my little nicknames was PeePee. I was the primary target for bullies and ridicule from those around me, but simply... I didn't care. I was just as hard headed as I was smart and hard working.

So I didn't throw money to get the latest fashion tip of the day, which was perfectly identical to the ones from last week. So I spent more time in my studies and books than around people whose only thoughts were on reading D.C. Comic books on Superman or Batman. So what? I had a few friends, I took what I could get naturally, but I also was mature enough to recognize life long ramifications of my actions that would start with childhood.

Just look where that got me! That mindset has pushed me into being the manager of one of the largest companies in the world. Leading in power, technology, research, and everything beyond what I had dreamed of when I was young. It got me into a relationship with one of the most egotistical, and for a reason I might add, people I have ever heard of.

But, at the end of it all... It might have helped to spend at least a little bit of time with the other kids, reading comic books and learning of these superheros who melted things with their eyes or flew around. It would have helped prepare me for... well...

* * *

"Being one?" Bruce Banner asked.

Pepper Potts nodded and slumped back in the plushy couch. "More than that, really. Dating one, spending time around them."

Bruce shrugged and put his glasses on the in-table as he reflected a bit himself. "I've seen the Spiderman cartoons myself, Mrs. Potts. I had watched with them rabid attention. I imagined, growing up, what it would be like to be super strong, able to fly through the air like that, and just be more than what I was. Trust me when I say: No matter how much of it you watch. No matter how much you dream or imagine or research into the fictional world, it can never prepare you for reality if it were to come in a similar fashion."

Pepper grunted in agreement. "Is it just me... or do all of these 'powers' come from horrible events? Superman, Batman, Spiderma-"

"Spiderman was less of a horrible event and more of a freak accident." Bruce corrected. "Pretty neutral really."

"Ok, well, still. You and I."

"Again, more of an accident and less of a horrible event."

"What happened to me was not fun, you know!" Pepper argued.

Bruce nodded slowly. "Of course not, but in my case, my power came about by a neutral accident. It was the result that was... horrible." He frowned from the memory of 'The Other Guy'.

Pepper groaned and put her head forward into her hands. "Your not helping. For a psychiatrist, you are pretty bad."

Banner chuckled. "That's because I'm not!"

"Well, in that case, you suck." Pepper chided.

Banner laughed quietly. It was interesting to him for someone to provoke him without fear, and without ignorance of what it might entail. "You never did answer my question."

Pepper immediately found the window beside them of infinite interest. They were on a higher floor in the Stark Tower, where Banner rented. The city below them was largely repaired of the damages of the invasion, but the streets were still somewhat empty. Businesses had trouble booming, and money was difficult in this area. The people were afraid the aliens might return, and their fear made business speculation sketchy at best. Until the repairs were finished, the signs were erased, and the fear was gone solid business would be a day to day risk. People simply avoided this area save for a few of the... alien nerds. Outside, Pepper could see a small group of them waving banners. She couldn't see the banners, but it wasn't hard to speculate what they said. It was probably the usual alien-nerd desire for the aliens to return so that they could be worshiped for not having a belly button.

"Mrs. Potts." Bruce said gently. "I asked you why it was that you chose to come to me. I can make the connection between my 'green' guy and your 'red' one, and how you may want me as a kind of brother in our little freak-species... But I cannot help but wonder at the timing."

Pepper stood up out of the chair and walked to the window.

Seeing she still intended to avoid the subject, Banner sighed to himself and walked next to her and peered out at what she was looking at.

Bruce Banner asked casually, "It's been a month since I heard Tony describe what happened to you. A month you could have been coming and talking. Why a month? You having been 'flaring up' for a whole month?"

"No." Pepper said quickly. "It happens all the time. At night, during the day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, shower, while driving, while writing, while talking, while on the damn phone! I melted the alarm clock once by slamming my red fist into it. I usually do hit the alarm as soon as it goes off, but this time... well... While I'm here, Tony is out getting me one that is fire-proof. And fire-resistant sheets."

Banner nodded.

"And a fire-resistant bed."

Again, Banner nodded silently. Pepper bit her lip and revealed, "And Tony is checking with his doctor to see if his... tool was damaged."

Bruce's eyes lit up briefly as he realized what that meant. He whistled, and Pepper flushed red as a pepper. He thought for a moment if there was a possible connection to her name, but thought better. Some coincidences were just perfect for their amusement.

Bruce asked, "So you and him were... embracing?"

Pepper nodded and resisted the urge to crawl under a rock. She admitted, "We knew the risk... Hell, Tony had it down to a statistical algorithm! He predicted that I 'flare up' uncontrollably a certain number of times every day, and that this morning I had hit my quota already." She bit her lip and looked like she didn't know whether to cry or scream or crush something. She started to turn slightly red, and not the good kind either. Bruce took a respectful step back, but not too far. "Well, turns out emotion also plays a factor in this whole shit-fest! Next thing I know, I give him a damn scar on his chin and he is on the other side of the room in one of the biggest panics I've ever seen, with the room on fire shortly after!"

Her right hand goes red and burns through the glass she was leaning against. Her arm goes clear through, and she almost fell forward, but her shock made her jump back. She looked at her right hand that started to glow violently red with lines going up to her shoulder and to her face. She looked up to the glass and saw her eyes were glowing red and she was breathing steam. The hole in the glass was a perfect impression of her hand, with the edges bright red.

"I cannot live like this!" She hissed to her reflection.

"It would appear you don't have much choice in the matter." Banner reflected calmly.

Pepper glared at him, "You suck at psychiatry." She wasn't trying too hard to appear menacing, but having smoke come out of your mouth makes it difficult not to be.

Banner shrugged. "I was told as much in High School." He looked her over closely while keeping a small distance. She met his examining gaze with a hostile one. Bruce had heard that she becomes unnatural aggressive in this state, but he didn't really care nor was afraid. She didn't appear to be as far gone as he would go. He met her gaze with calmness as he looked her up and down.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

"Yes!" She hissed.

"Inside or out?"

"PICK ONE!"

He nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. "How often do you lose control?"

She blinked in surprise. "What?! Everytime!"

"I do not mean control of the power, but of your mind. Do you attack people without control?"

She looked down in frightened thought. Bruce felt himself fascinated by how she was capable of cognitive thought and control even as far gone as she was. It might be she wasn't 'gone' enough, or she had far more of a grasp over her power than she thought. More than that, she appeared frightened, even in her angry state, of the prospect of attacking people without control purposefully. "I... don't think so. I mean, if I black out or... lash out in my sleep, it is not something I can exactly remember, right?"

"Hm..." Bruce shrugged. "Yes and no. If you are in one room one moment and then in another, the next, it is natural to wonder what happened. If you are sleeping in a bed one moment and then find yourself amongst rubble of a building freshly torn asunder, it is not hard to connect the dots."

Banner observed as she considered his words. As she thought and pondered, the redness lifted slowly and she became normal. "Have you ever been drunk?" He inquired.

Pepper nodded. Her aggressiveness was gone with the redness.

"It's a lot like that."

"Oh."


	2. Chapter 2 - Good Night

Despite whatever I might have thought, talking to the "Green Man", as Stark often called him, was nice. I concluded as I drove him. The man didn't offer miracles and fantasies. He didn't try making me a Buddhist monk who spent his time in the mountains meditating. He certainly didn't tell me to commune with nature -thank God, that would have been awkward!- and he didn't prescibe any drugs.

Not any radical ones anyway. Some basic vitamins were suggested to help balance myself out. D would keep my mood less depressive and controllable, B would just give energy and brain power (As if that could run out in my house...) and others were a nice bonus. Also he suggested some advil to relax my muscles and to consider eating better. Not to turn to a vegetarian or something, but less Mcdonalds and more home-cooking.

The main part of his help was primarily in talking. I knew talking to people who shared the same circumtances was helpful, I had been in a few situations myself, but never a situation like this. Even as scary as hell this was for me to be going through this... change it was nice to know at least one person in the whole world was similar. Albeit he was green and I turned a shining case of red.

He listened to my rants, my problems, and just talked. He did appear a little annoyed at times, since he stated many times he wasn't actually a psychologist, but he simply listened. He also showed me some basic meditation.

"I didn't know you were buddhist." I had said teasingly.

He met my joke flatly and stated. "I'm not, and there is nothing spiritual about it. People do it all the time without realizing what they are actually doing. When you stop yourself and count to ten, that is a mild meditation. What I wish to explain is deeper. It helps me, I am sure it will you."

Turns out it wasn't some mystical -hummmmmmmmm- thing. I didn't need to sit on the ground with my legs crossed, put my fingers up on my knees, and wait for nature to give me a sign. It was simply to focus my attention on a combination of controlled breathing and timing it by counting to four, and to breathe from the gut with my diaphram. When done properly, it is completely invisible to everyone around me.

Bruce showed it to me, and I didn't see a thing. I thought he was sleeping while standing up. He breathed through the nose while counting, then released while counting. All in his gut, which was barely noticeable through the shirt.

As thin as my shirt is, it would probably be somewhat noticeable, but not that bad.

The part I didn't much care for was the idea of homework. He told me to try it at home.

"How would I notice if I am doing it right?" I asked.

Bruce thought a moment and said, "If you feel more centered and controlled, that is a good sign. Almost a 'Ying-Yang' feeling, balance and so on. If you go so far as to experience vertigo, perhaps you should stop."

"Vertigo?"

"Yes. Farthest I ever went in basic meditation: My focus was so intent on breathing and counting that I lost sense of up and down. Time had also passed an hour without my knowledge. Focus is a powerful thing, Mrs. Potts."

Ok. So I now know focusing too hard resulted in losing sense of time and gravity. Works for me. I just hope Tony won't catch me meditating and think I joined some cult. He wouldn't take it well.

I turned into the driveway of my- our new home. After the events of before, which some wackos thought was funny enough to put on T.V., we had moved and were in the process of having a new building rebuilt. We lived in an RV first night, then a wooden hut for one night which... we both hated but we needed a vacation from people, and slowly upgraded as we were comfortable. Went as far as spending a night in the White House because the President wanted to discuss some official matters with Tony on an unofficial basis. (Big jump from an RV right?)

The matters were related to 'purging out' what remained of the terrorist group we had just finished dealing with, which I specifically did not wish to think about driving up to our new house. Tony was dealing with it, if it wasn't dealt with already. I had other things to worry about.

Like what the hell a sofa was doing on the road in front of me.

I blew a hair out of my face and groaned with my head against the steering wheel. I didn't need to be dealing with this.. I turned in my seat. It was night, and no one was around on the semi-modest neighborhood, so I left the car behind and let myself into the house. If the home-owners association wanted to fine us, go ahead.

I had to stifle a grin at the sight of Tony in an apron with mits on and a ladle in his hand. For one thing he was holding it wrong, and for another he had black soot all over him.

"What happened to you?" I asked, I stopped bothering to hold back my smile.

Tony in the kitchen... that as new.

"Nothin'." He returned to the kitchen and I dropped off my purse on the... ok the sofa was gone. I needed to ask about that. He continued, "You know the average idiot is actually retarded? These ovens are dangerous. The slightest thing and they explode an-"

"Is that what happened?!" I rushed to the kitchen. It was clean.

"No. Not yet anyway, but I don't see how anyone can use them. They fill up with powder and rust with use in the bottom, and are people too stupid to realize that even ashes can catch fire in the right circumstance? Also the lights use dangerous chemicals inside the bulbs, so I threw those out. Bought replacements that wont kill us at the slightest surge of static. And the sofa-"

"What about the sofa?" Ok, so I didn't have to ask him. He was ranting himself into my questions on his own. Much like he always does.

"Springs as sharp as nails, I have a very sensitive behind. I could feel them even through the cushioning. So I threw it out, we can afford one that won't butcher us."

"Hmmm." I concluded. "You mean you can afford it." I wouldn't have minded the sofa, it was almost refreshing to have something _not_ worth five million dollars around the house. The house we were currently in was an every day average one while our final home was being built in a few days.

After having fallen to my almost-death once before, I didn't want to live in the penthouse. Thing about heights.

Still, he threw out the couch. His problem.

"Right, that's what I said." He continued. He dove himself into the oven and scraped around.

I could have written a novel on that. He deserved it, but I chose to chalk it up to just part of his nature. He wasn't a money pincher, he threw money out like he didn't know how much he actually had, which he doesn't. But he was still a man, and being a man he chose the phrase "we", "us", and "I" in interesting places in pertaining to possession.

Instead of glaring or arguing, I was just too tired. I wanted sleep. Baring my soul and learning to be emotionally at peace was also emotionally exhausting.

"Bah!" Tony pulled himself out of the oven. "Forget this thing, I can get an oven that won't kill us when I stick a pizza in. Or better yet, order out. You want Chinese?"

"Too late for that." I yawned. Normally I could follow him in his never ending flow of thoughts, but going from exploding Chinese to pizza to ordering an oven right now just didn't make any sense.

I walked to the bed we shared and even in my weak haze, I froze.

My mind returned to the time I had flared up and almost killed Tony while... erm in bed with him. Tony was able to move on easily, he had seen his share of crazy to adapt. I wasn't him. The idea of sharing the bed with him and potentially killing him was not pleasant. I wasn't foolish enough to think that my flare ups couldn't occur at night without realizing it. I had already gone through my share of alarm clocks to prove that.

Why the hell couldn't fire-proof alarm clocks actually _be_ fire-proof anyhow?

I sighed deeply and just... I didn't want to deal with this. Not yet, not now. I could barely think. The idea of ordering pizza and exploding something made even less sense right now than before. It was something Tony and I needed to deal with, but it could wait for when I was lucid.

"Tony!" I called.

"Yes?"

"Your sleeping on the sofa..."

Yea... he could sleep in the couch in the living room. He would be fine with the knives exploding out of the oven in the sofa or... whatever.

I fell onto the bed and didn't bother going under the covers or taking my shoes off.

* * *

Tony stared at the hallway long and hard, and glanced to the front door, and back. He sighed and pulled off the aprin, threw the mitts into the heaven and figured they could set on fire for all he cared. It was a crappy oven anyway. He could probably make one a million times better overnight, patent it, sell it nationally, and then use the proceeds to buy the company making this oven just so he could fire whoever it was who made the crappy design.

But he had more important things to worry about.

Tony Stark slipped outside and into the shed where his Iron Man suit was housed. It was dirty and dusty and covered in spider webs practically over night. He wanted to bring it into the house, but Pepper was on edge and he didn't want to push. The suit itself was sitting in airplane mode.

For anyone not understanding of software and hardware, it doesn't mean his suit was in the shape of an airplane. The concept refers to the offline status of the device. Normally devices will use functions even while offline in order to perform some nice things. Tony had a tablet he liked to play music in, even while it was supposed to be off. Others also established Wi-Fi connections, and so on. It differed, but basically most computers, and related devices, still use some functions while offline. This meant they use power and power was something he didn't need to waste right now.

Tony had tried pulling electricity straight out of the lines to power his suit, and the process almost blew the entire neighborhood. Well, it did, but his company personally came to fix what he messed up.

His suit stood as a statue in the open space in airplane mode conserving as much of its power as possible. Right now, he needed a bit.

Tony took off the helmet and one of the gloves, merged the lines, and walked out to the front yard. It was cold and humid. Hot and humid, cold and humid, either way it was unpleasant. The way the moisture stuck his clothes together, made him sweat without working out, and threatened to mess up some fuses in his stuff was altogether unpleasant.

He could live with it. He had more pressing matters than the humidity level around here. Tomorrow he could make a giant fan to blow the moisture away if he wanted to.

Tony turned on his helmet and started using his robotic arm to lift the couch. To conserve power, he only lifted it an inch off the ground, just enough to move slowly.

"Good morning Sir." JARVIS came up. "Err- Sir. My internal clock says it is morning at 11 AM, but it is clearly 1 AM."

"Yea, I know." Tony set the couch down by the door.

"Sir, I do not have access to any of my suit hardware beyond your right arm. Have I been damaged? I have nothing in my memory of-"

"No, no, no. Your fine." Damn the door was not large enough for the couch... How did he get it out last time? "Your just uh... The rest of you is in airplane mode."

JARVIS took a moment to compute than he should have, which to Tony spoke volumes. It was the computer equivalent of hesitation. JARVIS stated, "I see. May I ask why that is?"

"Not any real way to power the suit beyond my chest-piece, JARVIS. Need to conserve what I can. Don't worry I will get you plugged in and running again once my new place is built."

"Understood."

Tony angled the couch and tried twisting it around to get it back in. The edge of the door got in the way. From the angle of the door, it was possible to take the couch out, yet it would be impossible to bring back in... Basic osmosis.

He set the couch back down and sighed from exhaustion. He plopped down on it. Next would have to be the car...

Nah. Just leave it.

"Jarvis, call Bruce Banner."

"Calling."

A picture of Bruce appeared in front of Tony's eyes inside the helmet as JARVIS made the call. A few moments later he picked up.

"Yes?" Bruce slurred.

"Hey!" Tony started energetically. "How are you doing, man? Did I wake you up?"

...

Bruce made some sounds as though he was sitting up, straightening, and composing himself. He also did an awful lot of sighing. All together Tony counted twenty seconds before: "Yes."

"Oh, sorry to hear that. Listen I'll make it up to you. I'll send over some nice soothing music or order you a pizza. I prefer pepperoni myself, ok?"

"Are you trying to make me mad?"

"Only a little." Tony admitted.

"Good night then."

"No! waitwaitwaitwait!"

"Yes?" Banner asked with clear annoyance.

"I wanted to ask how Pepper's session went."

...

Again Bruce paused. Tony guessed this time it was because the guy was having to mentally change gears from waking up and being annoyed, to being pestered about his psychiatrist session and being annoyed.

"It went well. She was more open than I would have thought, but..."

"But?" Tony asked.

"She is holding a lot in, Mr. Stark. ("Call me Tony.") She started to rage in my office, which would have been fine with me. I would have let her go completely loose if that would settle her mind, but she caused some minor damage to the furniture and caged her emotions inside to keep from causing more. If that was any sign, she is bottling a lot up to keep from hurting you and... well. Anything you own."

"I could care less if she destroys the alarm clocks. She already went through a dozen. I can have ten trucks of nothing but alarm clocks shipped here by morning."

"It is less about the economic value and more about the evidence of her condition. Seeing the damage being caused by her own hand is the same as putting a poster in her face screaming 'what' she is, in her eyes. I presume you would find it unpleasent to have all of your failures flown in your face as well."

Now that he put it that way, it made sense. Tony nodded.

Bruce continued, "We chatted and talked. Small stuff. I showed her..." Tony's ears perked up. "Never mind."

"What? What you show her?"

"Nothing. She didn't want me to tell you, I shouldn't have said that. So leave it."

Tony grinned evily and flashed his teeth. His head was inside the helmet, but he still half wondered if passerbys would be freaked out by the grin. He couldn't help but wonder what Bruce had shown Pepper... If she didn't want him to know... It must be embarassing. Or something that would hurt him...

Nah, knowing her it was embarrassing as hell. Tony half chuckled as his imagination flared. Most of it was sexy.

"Overall." Bruce returned. "I think it helped."

"Your a big help man."

Despite the well wishes and grandiose and the mood, Bruce was too tired and irritated really to respond. "Good night."

"Listen, I'll make the rent free for the next year since your doing this."

"Tony..."

"I'll send you over some beers, some pepzi's and cokes so you can pick which one your a fan of. Maybe a nice Christmas-"

"Tony."

"ham. Big one. The one the kids line up to chow on like a good pizza."

"Tony!"

"Yes?"

"First off... Just eat. You keep mentioning pizza, you must be hungry. Second, for the twenty-third time, ("Wait, your counting?") I am not a psychologist... you and Mrs. Potts are friends. You don't have to pay me or send gifts. I want to help. It is what friends do. I'll be there for you guys, just as I know you would be for me... half the time."

Tony was touched. He really was. Half-way. "Thanks man..."

"Your welcome. Good Nigh-"

"Guess I'll see you at 9 AM sharp then." Tony said quickly.

"-t. ye, no wait. Wait- WHAT? N-"

Tony hung up and grinned like the devil himself. He leaned back and felt like he had just accomplished something great. Got a friend to come help, and without charge. "Sir, he is calling." JARVIS said.

"What a great friend I have, eh Jarvis? He wants to be here so much."

"Shall I answer, sir?"

"Nah, tell him I'm eating that pizza."

...

"Sir, he is leaving voice messages. He claims your parents were never married. Shall I translate?"

**Ok, Second chapter. Not that long, I know. Just wanted to get this part out of the way. **

**Tell me what you guys think. :) I am open to ideas, since while there will be a main story, I am open to including side-stories of things that happen from day to day along the way.**

**Also tell me if I suck or am the most epic thing since sliced bread ;) I do this so that people can enjoy reading what I write, not just for my own selfish sake.**


	3. Chapter 3 - 24 hours

Ok, here we have another chapter. Not finished, but I am working slowly. Surgeries, college, self-studies in HTML, CSS, and C++, and also working on my official novel and like a million fanfictions all at once cause me to work very slowly on each individual one!

But here it is.

Again, I own nothing.

* * *

5 A.M.

* * *

I do not claim to be an early riser. I used to be, but after all of the damsel-in-distress action, my life has been giving me signals to take things a tad bit slower. I also cannot claim to be a morning person, erregardless of when that is. I have a little bit of a temper. Came with being a Pepper. Also came with being the closest thing I knew of to being one of those mutants I saw in movies.

10AM, 9AM, 1PM, it doesn't matter. Not even 5AM. Yeah, lets go with 5AM. Perfect example.

Such as today, at 5AM.

*DING DONG*

I don't know which is worse, the alarm clock, the doorbell, or that chirpy one that sounded like a bird I only heard of from rich snobby people.

Also, the first two sound amazingly the same to my muddled mind.

I reach over and smash my hand onto the alarm clock, telling it to shut up. I then return my hand to my side to continue sleeping, but my hand is stuck inside the alarm clock. I glance up with a single eye and see I had melted my hand, well, into it. I groan into the pillow, wait for my arm to stop glowing red, and tuck the alarm clock into my side. It will have to suffice.

*DING DONG*

Ok, not an alarm clock. Fair enough. Thats cool. The guy better be ready to lose a couple body parts. Right now the trade sounds remarkably fair.

I painfully throw myself up onto my feet to get to the door before the person is done. With the blood rushing to my head I slam myself into the door.

"Wait a second..." I groan.

Ok, probably sounded more like a bear growling, but it is suffice. I throw the door open, and guess who is there.

Well, to be honest, my eyes were closed. I had no clue. He could have been a murderer and I would be wide open.

"Whatta want?" I ask.

"May I enter, Mrs. Potts?"

Recognizing the voice as Mr. Banner, I nod dumbly and close the door behind him as he enters. He glances curiously at the alarm clock dangling from my fist, but, thankfully, leaves his thoughts to himself.

"You know your boyfriend is a bastard, right?" He says. With his monotone lazy voice, I can never tell if he is joking, serious, or talking about the weather.

Feeling that whatever Mr. Banner wants, he can tell me just as easily with me standing as me laying down. I fall into a chair. With my brain only catching tidbits here and there, I manage to joke, "Actually, his parents were happily married. Till he was born."

"hm." Was the empty response. He sounded like he was looking for something.

Why did I bother... All I knew was I needed sleep right then. If he wants to steal from us, move in, or go ape crazy with green effects on our house, I could deal with it after words.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Potts, but where is Stark?"

Sometimes I appreciate the curtosy of fine speech, but right then it was just ticking me off. He was entirely too awake to mix in well with me right then.

"I don't know." I admit. I probably sound more like a bearing growling, or zombie groaning. "All I know is you... ugh... coming in."

"Point is fair." He comments slowly as he seems to be continueing to look around slowly.

Why does he sound like a game ref?

"Do you want something from him?" I manage to ask more clearly.

"Yes."

I would happily pay the man 100$ to leave, and another 100$ to get to the point. Not necessary in that order. Despite his choice in clothing, he isn't a begger.

"Such as?" I try to pull something out of him.

"He is attempting to blackmail me into becoming a roommate of the two of you in order to survey your psychological condition in a more day-to-day circumstance. While the theory has merit, he fails to comprehend that I am not a psychologist."

Ok... problem. All I caught was "mail", "survey", "psychic", "theory", and a bunch of little words in between.

I look at him in disbelief. "What?"

He thinks a moment and rephrases himself, "Stark wants me to move in."

"Why?"

"I believe it would be prudent to ask him."

Fair enough. Tony can answer whatever the hell it is Bruce (to hell with last names right now) is being pulled into. Now where was Tony...

"We gotta find the bastard." I sigh. At this point I feel a little more awake.

"Exactly my point." He agrees.

I lift the alarm clock lodged around my fist and read. "5 AM. Well... he wasn't in bed." Not with me anyway. He never is anymore, since I scarred his face slightly. "He uh... might be in the shed working on his toys, but he has nothing in the way of resources right now. We are pushing for a new house before sating his need to tinker. Have you tried calling him?"

"I do not own a cell phone. All I have been using is the phone in my apartment." He glanced at the phone on the wall and motioned to it asking for permission curiously.

I nod. He makes a call. A minute later he hangs up.

"Jarvis says that Mr. Stark isn't taking able to take calls right now, but did say they were checking on the house and should return home soon. They are going to buy some breakfast on the way home." He raised an eyebrow. "It thought I was you."

I chuckle. "Of course, you didn't make a sound."

If Jarvis was with Tony, and Tony was too busy to talk. He was probably working on the house in his suit doing some heavy lifting.

Why were all these men so active and awake at 5 AM... There was something wrong with them.

"Well, make yourself at home." I yawn. "It's gonna be a bit." Bruce sits on the ground cross-legged against the wall and closes his eyes. I curl up on the comfy cushiony chair and give myself another five minutes of sleep.

* * *

"Sir." Jarvis picked up. "Mrs. Potts called."

"Did she say anything?"

Tony Stark stooped down to inspect an iron beam on the floor. It was already in position, minus 2-degrees. With proper adjusting, he will have room to increase the number of cables to place into the room by about... Jarvis claimed 3%. He kicked it and the beam screeched as movement was forced upon it. A second kick and the screen in his feet lit up green.

"Nothing, Sir. I sent her a voice message that you are busy."

"Well, why would you- HEY!" Tony snapped toward a couple builders who were trying to nail wood in the wrong place. "This floor! mine! Upstairs! Rest of you! I've said it three times now. Do. Not. Touch. My. Stuff."

"Sorry, sir!" They jumped and ran upstairs.

Tony walked to the wooden plank they had been trying to install. Normally he wouldn't be snippy, but he was exhausted, he was selflessly going though celibicy, and the common workers now a days just don't listen like they used to. The plank they were trying to install wasn't even on the blueprint!

Downstairs was his workshop. His custom made 'stuff' was outfitted and design placed into every inch of it. Right now it was just the basic skeletal work but he still wanted to see to his own area, personally.

He returned to his work after physically snapping the wooden plank off its nails and tossing it aside. He picked up a titanium sheet in his suit's hands and placed it down.

"Because clearly you are busy." Jarvis answered matter-of-factly.

"Good point." He sighed. "Did she leave a message?"

"No sir."

He snapped his head up to the hill as another small group of construction workers were getting a bit too close. They jumped back at the sudden movement as though he was going to jump them. In the suit, it was a very intimidating symbol. He considered three possible solutions.

First was firing his laser into the ground and make a line for them to not cross, but it would scar the ground and Pepper would be unhappy if the grass wouldn't grow in a very visible line in the middle of the yard.

Second was building a fence, but that would run into time or resources, and in both directions meant finishing their house was going to take longer. He didn't mind the 'normal' house in the 'normal' neighborhood being bothered by 'normal' homeowner nazi's. He also didn't mind not being able to tinker despite the overwhelming number of plans piling up on his brain, and the lack of ability to relax was driving him up the wall. What he minded was, well, getting a new place. A place away from people, a place where Potts would be safe to be her 'new' self, and where he could tinker until his arms were sore or until she yelled at him for skipping five meals.

Also the fence would leave holes in the yard, another insignificant problem to plague him. Not that the prospect of, instead of telling kids to get out of his lawn, but rather to see them tripping over holes, was not at all appealing, he just didn't need to think about it.

Third solution was firing and/or hitting anyone who came too close, but that would run down on the work force and thereby SERIOUSLY throwing off the timetable he had planned.

No, Tony told himself. He just needed to suck it up, bark at anyone too incompotent to listen the first three times, and then relax in paradise surrounded by metal and oil and a tempermental woman with a super power than can now quite literally kick his ass even when in his suit.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Tony aimed delicatly at the sheet on the ground and slowly melted its edges until it was merged with the sheets around it. He would need to run the entire floor over with a couple shavers he had invented. The shavers had a laser layer that would be used to shave the ground precisely and perfectly until it was smooth as a baby's metal bottom.

He found a couple wires of various shapes, sizes, and variety of uses. To describe the sheer variety of them, and their uses, would be too much to comrepehend. Only about 7% of them were used in every day homes, 50% in large business headquarters, and 61% used by NASA in their aircraft. So far as he knew, Washington D.C. and SHIELD used only about 75-80% of the resources he had in cable types alone. His workshop demands were costly and specialized. More than a few required him to make them custom made.

As he toiled, the music of hammers beating down upstairs and footsteps disappeared in the back of his mind as the morning sun rose higher.

* * *

7A.M.

* * *

(Not complete)


End file.
